Chapter 418: Winston Goldfield

Luca didn’t wait for the food to be prepared.

The moment he stepped out of Flame Burger, he ducked into the nearest alleyway, far from prying eyes and smartphone cameras.

The last thing he needed was footage of a man in medieval-leather-straps opening a glowing portal circulating across the internet. That was a headache he simply didn’t have time for.

The portal shimmered into existence and he stepped through without hesitation.

—

When he emerged on the other side, the world had transformed entirely.

Gone were the concrete towers and the endless stream of pedestrians staring at their phones.

Instead, Luca found himself standing in a valley that belonged on postcards and in daydreams.

Rolling green hills stretched out in every direction, their slopes dotted with wildflowers in shades of purple and gold.

Old trees stood sentinel here and there, their branches spreading wide against a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

It looked, Luca thought, like exactly the sort of place where horses ought to live.

And indeed, there were horses.

Beautiful stables lined the far side of the valley, their wooden frames painted a pristine white that gleamed in the sunlight.

Large fenced paddocks stretched beyond them, where horses moved about freely—grazing, trotting, rolling in the grass with evident contentment.

The entire estate radiated wealth and meticulous attention; it was obvious this wasn’t a simple farm but a high-class establishment dedicated to the maintenance of the finest horses money could buy.

But the horses were not the strange thing.

The strange part was the building sitting directly in the center of this paradise. A structure so modern and sleek that it seemed to have been dropped there from another dimension entirely.

Glass panels covered every surface, reflecting the blue sky above.

The design was cutting-edge, all sharp angles and smooth curves, the kind of architecture that screamed innovation and forward thinking.

"Whoa..."

Luca murmured, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

"High-tech. Very cool. Very advanced."

"Hehe. This was not what this place had looked like thirty years ago. Not even close."

He began walking toward the building and as he drew closer, a display screen mounted near the main entrance flickered to life, cycling through promotional images:

Robotic arms assembling delicate components.

Scientists in lab coats peering at holographic schematics.

A child with a prosthetic leg running across a field, laughing. And at the center of it all, in elegant silver lettering:

[IRIS BIONIC TECHNOLOGIES]

[Giving the World a Second Step Forward]

Luca paused at the entrance, taking in the sight with a quiet sense of wonder.

"Well, Winston." He said softly. "It seems you’ve been doing very well for yourself."

He pushed through the glass doors and stepped inside.

—

The interior was every bit as impressive as the exterior had promised.

The main lobby soared upward into a vast atrium, its ceiling so high that it seemed to touch the sky itself.

Employees moved through the lobby with quiet purpose: some in crisp business suits, others in white lab coats, all of them radiating the particular energy of people who believed in what they were doing.

A few of them glanced at Luca’s attire, but no one stared for long.

In a place where scientists routinely attached robotic limbs to test subjects, a man with eccentric fashion sense barely registered as noteworthy.

But what caught Luca’s attention most was the centerpiece of the lobby: a golden statue of a horse, and sitting atop that horse was the figure of a man.

Luca approached slowly, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. He reached out and gently touched the horse’s muzzle.

"Sally, old friend." He murmured softly. "It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you."

He looked at the statue with genuine fondness, as though greeting an old companion rather than a piece of metal.

But the moment his fingers made contact with the golden surface, a voice rang out behind him.

"Sir, please don’t touch the statue."

Luca turned to find a young receptionist approaching, her expression politely stern.

"That piece is very precious to the chairman. I must ask you to remove your hand."

Luca immediately withdrew his fingers, offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. I just got a little emotional. It won’t happen again."

The receptionist’s stern expression wavered with confusion. Emotional? Over a statue?

But she pushed the thought aside and returned to business.

"How can I help you today, sir?"

She led him back to the reception desk, and Luca leaned against it casually.

Luca leaned on the counter, his expression casual. "Is Winston around?"

The receptionist’s fingers froze. She looked up at him with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

"I’m...sorry? Did you say Winston?"

"That’s right. Winston Goldfield. The chairman. Is he in today?"

The receptionist’s composure faltered.

Winston Goldfield. The founder and chairman of Iris Bionic Technologies. One of the most influential figures in the entire robotics industry.

The man whose innovations in prosthetic technology had changed millions of lives.

And this stranger was asking about Winston Goldfield as if he were an old drinking buddy.

"I’m sorry." The receptionist said, recovering her professional demeanor with visible effort. "But Mr. Goldfield is currently in his office. If you have an appointment, I can—"

"I don’t have an appointment." Luca said cheerfully.

"—then I’m afraid I can’t—"

"But you can just tell him that Luca has come to visit from thirty years ago." He smiled. "I think he’ll understand."

The receptionist stared at him. Luca. Thirty years ago. This man didn’t even look thirty years old.

He looked maybe twenty-five, twenty-six at most. How could he possibly—

"Sir." She began, her voice taking on the patient tone one might use with a confused child. "Mr. Goldfield is an extremely busy man. He doesn’t meet with people who don’t have appointments, and I can’t simply—"

Luca held up a hand, cutting her off gently. Then he pointed back toward the statue

"Do you see that horse over there?" He asked.

The receptionist glanced at it. "Yes...?"

"And the man sitting on top of it?"

"Yes, but what does that have to—"

"Look at his face." Luca said. "Then look at mine."

She did. Her eyes went from the statue’s face to Luca’s face. Back to the statue. Back to Luca.

Her mouth fell open.

The resemblance was unmistakable!

The same jawline. The same nose. The same set of the eyes, the same curve of the brow.

It wasn’t exact—the statue was idealized, stylized, rendered in gold.

But the similarity was too striking to be coincidence!

’It had to be a coincidence.’ The receptionist thought. ’Or some kind of prank.’

But Luca simply smiled warmly. "Please, just mention my name. I assure you...he’ll respond."

The receptionist hesitated, then reluctantly picked up the phone. She might get in trouble for this, but something told her this wasn’t a joke. She dialed the chairman’s office with trembling fingers.

The line connected.

"Chairman Goldfield? I’m sorry to disturb you. I know you have no appointments scheduled, but there’s someone here named Luca who says he’s come to visit from thirty years ago—"

She didn’t even get to finish.

"LUCA?!"

The voice that erupted from the speaker was so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear.

"DID YOU JUST SAY LUCA?!"

"Y-Yes, sir. He’s right here in the lobby—"

BANG!

The call disconnected abruptly.

The receptionist stared at the phone in confusion. What was going on?

And then, from upstairs, chaos erupted.

"MOVE! MOVE! GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

"MARGARET, CANCEL MY MEETING! CANCEL EVERYTHING! I DON’T CARE IF THE PRESIDENT HIMSELF IS ON THE LINE—CANCEL IT!"

The sound of rapid, frantic footsteps echoed down from the upper floors. Then a voice, bellowing with the particular fury of a man confronting inadequate technology:

"WHY ISN’T THE ELEVATOR COMING?! WHY IS IT SO SLOW?! FORGET IT! I’LL TAKE THE STAIRS!"

And then came the most remarkable sound of all: the thundering cascade of an elderly man descending multiple flights of stairs.

Clara, the receptionist stared at the ceiling, her face a mask of utter bewilderment.

Employees throughout the lobby had stopped in their tracks, their conversations dying mid-sentence as they tried to process what was happening.

"Is that...is that the chairman?" Someone whispered.

"Why is he shouting?"

"What could possibly have gotten him this excited?"

"I’ve worked here for twelve years and I’ve never heard him raise his voice."

Finally, the stairwell door burst open and a man stumbled into the lobby, gasping for breath.

He was handsome in a distinguished way. Silver-white hair, thick mustache, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, and the exertion of running down who-knew-how-many flights of stairs had clearly taken its toll.

But his eyes—behind those crooked glasses, his eyes were fixed on Luca with an intensity that bordered on religious awe.

"L-Luca." He breathed. "Luca! Is it really you? AFTER ALL THIS TIME!?"

He didn’t wait for an answer. He crossed the distance between them in four strides and threw his arms around Luca.

"MY FRIEND! MY DEAR, DEAR FRIEND!"

Winston was laughing and crying at the same time, his voice cracking with emotion.

"YOU FINALLY CAME BACK! I KNEW YOU WOULD! I KNEW IT!"

And then, to the utter astonishment of every employee watching he lifted Luca off the ground and spun him around like a child reunited with a long-lost sibling.

"Winston! Winston, put me down!"

Luca was laughing, genuinely laughing.

"You’re going to throw out your back! Do you have any idea how old you are?!"

"I don’t care! I don’t care about any of that! You’re HERE! After thirty years, you’re finally HERE!"

"Winston, you’re causing a scene." Luca said, gesturing at the growing crowd of stunned employees. "Everyone’s watching."

"Commotion?! What commotion?!" Winston set him down but didn’t release his grip on his shoulders. "This is MY company! I could blow it up and no one would care!"

He waved a dismissive hand at the gathered employees, who were watching the scene with expressions ranging from shock to utter bewilderment.

"Forget about them! I just—I can’t believe—" His voice cracked. "I can’t believe you’re actually here!"

And then Winston Goldfield, titan of industry, pioneer of robotics, one of the most powerful men in the tech world, began to cry in earnest.

Not the dignified tears of a businessman, but the messy, unguarded weeping of someone who had been reunited with a long-lost brother.

The employees exchanged stunned glances.

"Who is that man?" Someone whispered.

"He has to be a relative. A brother, maybe?"

"No, no—look at their faces. The age gap is way too big for brothers."

"His son, then? An illegitimate son?"

"That would explain the resemblance to the statue..."

"I heard the chairman say ’my friend.’ What kind of friend makes a man cry like that?"

Meanwhile, Clara had not moved from her spot behind the desk.

Her brain was still trying to process the image of her dignified, composed chairman sprinting down multiple flights of stairs and then bear-hugging a man who looked young enough to be his grandson.

"Alright, alright." Luca gently pried himself free of Winston’s grip, laughing. "Let’s calm down before you give yourself a heart attack."

Winston sniffled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his eyes. "Every single day." He said, his voice still thick with emotion. "Every single day I’ve thought about seeing you again."

He blew his nose loudly.

"Sometimes I even dreamed about you. You’d show up at my door, looking exactly the same as you always did, and we’d talk just like old times."

"Alright, now you’re making it weird." Luca cringed. "You’re talking about me like I’m your long-lost lover."

Winston burst out laughing. "Maybe you are! Who knows!"

"Your wife would have something to say about that. Speaking of which...

Luca pointed back toward the statue.

"...I can’t believe you put my face on top of Sally over there! Doesn’t Iris complain? Shouldn’t she be the one immortalized in gold?"

Winston scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

"Iris already got her name on the company. She can’t be greedy and demand to be on the emblem too. Besides.. "

His voice softened, and his expression became something more serious, more genuine.

"...that position belongs to you. You’re the very reason this company exists. The very reason any of this..."

He gestured at the building around them, at the labs, at the employees, at everything.

"...is here today!"